A Second Missing Scene
by caesarsdaughter
Summary: MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE BIG DAMNED MOVIE! Another scene between our favorite doctor and favorite mechanic...


Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy owns them, not I…

Author's Note: Minor Spoilers for the Big Damned Movie - Once again, I thought we were missing a little bit between Simon and Kaylee…

Simon had now been shot twice. Psychiatrists only had to be psychoanalyzed once before they were certified. Having endured the white-hot searing pain of a bullet piercing his flesh as well as the dull ache of recovery (not just once, no, no – twice, and in two medically distinct parts of the body) Simon felt he had really earned his M.D. and certification. Of course, he'd thought he'd earned both before he'd been shot the first time. So.

He currently found himself lying on one of the recovery beds in his own infirmary –

Serenity's infirmary –

Hell, it was His Infirmary. He was pretty sure he could call it His without any argument from anyone, now. Even Mal.

And, he'd been stuck in it for nearly a week.

The Alliance doctors who had saved him had offered to perform the surgery in their facilities. Offered to let him recover at his own pace under their professional care and constantly observant eyes. He'd declined politely, thank you. The medical professionals at the Operative's disposal may have found themselves far afield of the Core, may had been fully accepting of the Operative's assurances that the Tams were no longer a threat. He'd still had more than enough of Alliance medical staffs and their ministrations. So had his sister. And Serenity's crew. There were just find where they were, thanks. Just patch them up and leave them where they were, thanks. And please don't forget to restock the medical supplies when you're done. Extras? Oh, that'd be just lovely.

Not being one to usually carry on non-verbal conversations with imagined governmental employees, he assumed the semi-rationality of his musings were at least partially the product of the smoother they had given him. The pain had been absolutely phenomenal. He hadn't realized just how brave Kaylee had been. Having a hole shot in your abdomen Really Hurt.

The other factor contributing to his thoughts running amok (though he'd be hard-pressed to attribute percentage contributions to either as he suspected the figures fluctuated) was due to stir-craziness. He also hadn't realized just how bored Kaylee had been. Lying around waiting for the hole in your abdomen to heal was Really Boring.

The monotony he was forced to endure while lying in his own medical bay was compounded by the recovery of the rest of Serenity's crew, including his sister, and their efforts to get Serenity back up and running. No one wanted to stay on Mr. Universe's moon any longer than was absolutely necessary. Mal just wanted to get Serenity to limping, and everyone was pitching in. Everyone except Simon. God, he was bored. And sleepy. Bored and sleepy. But his mind refused to turn off.

River's sudden return to mental health had been miraculous and rather handy, all things considered. She had been able to protect them all from the Reavers. (His baby sister, his mei-mei. She was a killing machine. He reminded himself never to seriously tease her again.) And now, she was able to come and visit him, keep him company, and have actual, linear conversations with him while he was forced to lie in the recovery bed … recovering. He couldn't vouch for his own side of the conversations, as he was heavily medicated. But, he was pretty damned sure River was communicating rather well. He was proud.

But, Simon's gain had been tempered by Zoe's loss. The crew felt the death of Book, mourned for him as a lost friend and remembered teacher. The senseless death of Wash, though, had been an unforgiving shock of hurt; a visceral pain each of them could feel in their guts (he forgave himself the unintentional pun and moved quickly on). Wash had always been a voice of reason, of skepticism but never cynicism. Aside from Kaylee, Simon had felt that Wash was his closest ally on the ship. They very rarely saw one another in the infirmary – the pilot's job was usually the safest on Serenity, on any ship. Other than his own. It was a cruel irony that the rest of them had lived through a fight to the death with genetically engineered monsters that were hell-bent on raping and mutilating them before eating them alive, but Wash had been struck down while seemingly safe in his pilot's seat. Son of a bitch. The 'verse really sucked sometimes. It sucked all kinds of badness.

Smoother or no, Simon felt himself drifting into and out of a fitful sleep. He recognized the disturbed patterns as an after-effect of trauma. When he was awake, lying still and silent, he remembered just how much the 'verse had taken from these people, his friends, without giving anything back in return. And how quite a bit of their hurt could be called, in some way, his fault. You could truthfully say it had been his fault that Book had lost his life, Zoe had lost her husband, each of the crew had lost vast quantities of blood, and Kaylee had nearly lost the ability to speak.

He was suddenly aware of how quiet Serenity was without the steady humming of her engines, without her heartbeat. He found himself missing the noise and the gentle rhythm, its ability to lull you to sleep. Its ability to drown out the sound of hammering on the hull. He pulled the pillow out from under his head and wrapped it around his face, covering his ears.

"Whoa there, Simon. I heard people need oxygen for some pretty important stuff. Like breathin'." It was muffled and was still pretty hoarse, but he heard Kaylee's voice through the synthetic batting of the pillow. He grunted as polite a hello as he could muster when she raised one corner of his sound buffer and graced him with a smile, "How ya doin'?"

She looked quickly at his lower torso, as though afraid of catching sight of a bloody, sucking wound. Seeing only a blanket covering a sheet, knowing that they covered clean bandages that in turn covered the bloody sucking wound from sight, she relaxed.

"I'm – uhh – I'm alright." He was still pretty groggy from the pain medication, but the fog waslifting very slowly as he continued to talk, "I wish I could be doing more to help. Actually, I wish I could be doing anything to help."

She shook her head, "It's alright. We got plenty of help. River's doin' 'nough for the both of ya." Kaylee smiled wider, and not without some pride. "She's takin' so quick to everyin' – you weren't jokin' when you told us she was a genius. She's gonna put me outa an engineerin' job pretty soon, n' I'm gonna wind up on permanent kitchen duty or somethin'."

He pulled an arm out from under his covers, exposing a shoulder, and shivered slightly – apparently the Alliance doctors had determined that he should be left to heal without a shirt. He hadn't realized that. He kept his arm out, anyway, and grabbed her hand. "I doubt that highly. But, uh, thanks. For, uh, you know, looking after her while I'm stuck here." Simon determined that the drugs he'd been given were also impeding his already terrible ability to converse. Could he be any less eloquent? He didn't think so.

She chuckled softly. "Don't worry none 'bout her. You just gotta get better. Zoe's already up and walkin'. Cap'n'll be looking' for you to help out with the clean up, 'fore long. Just wait."

At the mention of Zoe and and Mal, Simon's face fell, suddenly reflecting how tired and sad he was pretty sure everybody felt. But, he couldn't help it. It was selfish to show his guilt, and he'd ordinarily have fought to show a passive expression, but his brain functions were too impeded by the medication to stop himself.

"Don't you think it, Simon Tam. It wasn't your fault. None of it."

"But, I…"

"None of it, you hear me? Cap'n made a choice. We all made a choice to follow. Any one of us coulda stayed behind. We didn't. People make choices, Simon. No one blames you. No one. What you did for River, you did it outta love. And the choices we made, things we did – we did 'em outta love, too. Different kinds, but still love. Those're the best choices, Simon. The only choices. Even if they don't turn out like ya want 'em to, or you thought they would." Once again, Kaylee was gently reminding him that he was being a stubborn ass. Poor girl, he thought, why'd she wind up having to deal with me?

"You didn't listen to me, last time I tried to tell ya that you were bein' dumb. You gotta listen this time, 'kay?" Kaylee had knelt down next to the recovery bed, one hand still holding Simon's, the other resting on his shoulder. "'Kay?" she asked again.

"Alright," though he didn't quite mean it. He was pretty sure she knew he didn't really mean it, but it seemed to be okay that he'd at least said it. "Listen, uh … about what I said back there. Before the Reavers came in… um – I…" Oh, god. He wasn't actually going to try to have this conversation while doped up on smoothers and pain meds, was he? What was he thinking? He obviously wasn't. And there was no way he trusted his conversational skills to smooth this one over or to cut the conversation off. He'd just have to forge ahead.

She had removed her hand from his shoulder. Oh, god. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut and, for once, not mercilessly crush the feelings of his beautiful friend by saying something unforgivably stupid?

"'Bout bein' with me, you mean?"

"Yeah, uhh – yes, I…"

"'Sokay, Simon." Though her smile dimmed and her eyes looked sad, she gently put her hand back on his shoulder, and he felt her warmth seep into him. Damn it was cold in the infirmary. And she was so warm, like sunshine. "'Sokay," she repeated softly.

"It is?" He'd told her the truth. As much as he felt guilty for all of the death and destruction that had rained down upon Serenity and her crew following his arrival with River, the only real regret he truly had was that if he had been about to die there, to die protecting his sister and living this life, he'd have died without ever having shown Kaylee how he felt. He'd hoped for the past eight months that she'd understood, that she'd somehow felt the strength of his emotions, but he knew that never having told her, shown her, she couldn't have really known. And she deserved to know; she'd given him so much.

That didn't excuse his forwardness, though. He knew she joked with Mal about him, but she'd long ago given up on seriously flirting with him, suggesting anything serious or physical. Since before Early had come, if he was honest about it. He knew how he felt about her, but wasn't sure how she felt about him, anymore. Although it had hurt her feelings when he mentioned it, on the ship, they really were each other's only option. Not that he wouldn't have chosen her out of a hundred options - nurses and debutantes. And she'd made a joke about his having given her a reason to live through the battle. But he couldn't take his feelings and her lack of choice for granted. Until Miranda, he couldn't afford a real relationship, with River being crazy and their both being fugitives. And Kaylee, well, she wasn't always on the ship. She often got off on planets where he had to stay behind for safety. He was still pretty woozy, but he was sure that there were men on planets. And maybe she'd had second – third? fourth? – thoughts about forming an attachment to a fugitive with nothing to offer her except a potentially creepy obsession with fixing his sister. Hell, he'd have second thoughts about himself. He knew she was his friend; that she cared about him. He just didn't know how she cared, or as what.

"Yeah, 'sokay, Simon. People say all kinds of crazy things in those situations. You should hear some of the stories Cap'n and Zoe've got. There's this one 'bout this soldier who thought he was gonna die and started callin' Cap'n his momma. He was pretty embarrassed when they won the fight and he was still alive." Her smile brightened, but he didn't think it quite reached her eyes. "Don't worry. I don't think anyone heard ya."

"No, Kaylee. That's not what I – "

Apparently having learned her lesson about letting him follow thoughts to their conclusions out loud, she cut him off. "Really, Simon. It's okay. We're friends, good friends." And even though he hadn't managed to say anything hurtful, anything at all, really, he still felt like he'd done or said something terrible. She thought this was what he wanted to hear. She'd thought it was the adrenaline talking. She thought that what she was telling him now was a kindness. And maybe it was for her, but it wasn't for him.

"Kaylee." He struggled to sit up, but, hissing with pain, fell back on the pillow she'd moved from his face and had placed behind his head. When had she done that?

She squeezed his shoulder, where her hand still lay, thumb absently stroking his skin. "It's seriously alright, Simon. It's enough," and she stood up to go. She thought better of simply detaching and turning away, and leaned down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, as Mal occasionally did for her when she was hurting, as Simon did for River. She let her lips linger against his skin, perhaps, than a mother would. Her hair trailed against his cheeks and he could smell her shampoo, clean, crisp, soft, and gentle. It was like her.

She let go of his hand and left him to rest.

She didn't come to see him again.

When River sat with him, her eyes were full of pity; her voice was full of empathy. Her words were full of a little sister's taunting, "Seriously, will you ever _not_ be a boob?"

He found her in the engine room, swaying in her hammock, eyes closed, arms wrapped tight around her own chest. Simon was fairly certain that Kaylee never slept in her hammock – she just rested in the warmth of her ship without losing consciousness. She cocooned near her engine for safety, and he knew she'd be at least partially awake, though she appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Still, he didn't want to startle her.

He coughed softly, and her bright eyes opened quickly.

"Oh, Hey there, Simon!"

He knew he had to strike just the right balance between thinking just enough before he spoke so as to not unintentionally insult her, but not over thinking it so thathe'd just get scared and run. "It's not enough for me."

Still swinging in her hammock, she looked up at him clearly confused. She obviously had no idea what he was talking about, "What ain't?"

"It's not enough, just being your friend. It wasn't enough before, really – but it – it had to be. Now, it's just not enough. For me – I mean." He quickly looked down at his shoes, hoping that he had properly clarified that he was simply conveying the strength of his own feelings and he understood that she had every right (and probably should) turn him down, if that's what she wanted.

"Oh." She fell silent and sat up in the hammock, feet in heavy work boots hitting the floor. When Simon dared a glance at her he could see that her hands were folded in her lap and she was staring intently at her thumbs. "Oh." She kept her eyes down for what to Simon felt like an interminable amount of time.

Oh, god. What had he done? He shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have brought it up. Would things be awkward now? Could they still be friends? He didn't think he could live with himself if he couldn't at least be her friend, be around her, and revel in her.

"Oh!" Her head shot up and she smiled brilliantly at him. "Oh!" Every second that passed, her surprise and joy seemed to grow exponentially. Simon could feel himself grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care.

Laughing, he hobbled closer and offered her his hand to help her out of the hammock and into his arms. Once again he found her head on his shoulder while he held her as close to him as he could. His eyes closed from the relief and elation he felt, he felt rather than saw her smile as she whispered "Shiny," and clung to him just a little bit tighter.


End file.
